Thin Air (6 page)

‘Fine. Anna’s learning the piano
now.’

Golden children in a golden
life. ‘Are you happy?’

‘Are you trying to make me feel
guilty for saying “yes”’?

‘Not at all. I envy you.’ She
paused. ‘Dex was never happy.’

‘Aha,’ said Jez slowly, clearly
not daring to say more for fear of invoking the fight or flight
response.

‘I’ve not spoken about this for
a long time, but... well something reminded me of Dex today. And
before you start lecturing me about letting go of the past, I have.
Mostly. It’s just the unanswered questions, Jez. I had no idea he
was in a state.’

‘You and Dex had a very...
atypical relationship,’ Jez said carefully.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Now, don’t get pissy about
this, but well, Ellie and I noticed. It was like you were a picture
of a woman to him, perfect and remote. You never saw what he was
like because he never let you. When he was with you, I think he was
just acting.’

‘That’s a horrible thing to
say!’

He shrugged. ‘I know. But would
you rather I lied to you?’

‘I’d rather you told me what you
based that opinion on! You didn’t see us together for long.’

‘We didn’t have to.’ He leaned
forward a little. ‘Tell me something, did you ever fight?’

Jay frowned. ‘No, hardly ever,
and if we did, it was over stupid things like forgetting to buy
milk, or something.’

Jez leaned back again, toying
with his wine glass. ‘Ellie and I have blazing fights, but then we
can both be hot-heads.’

‘And that’s better is it?’

Jez shook his head. ‘That’s not
what I meant. Dex fought continually with everyone. Why did he
never fight with you? It’s what he was. Remember, I went on tour
with him. He was a nightmare. But I couldn’t believe the way he
behaved with you. He was like a different person.’

Jay put down her fork with a
clatter, abandoning the pretence of eating. ‘Can’t you just let me
think that I was good for him, then? Why does it have to be
sinister?’

‘I’m just saying there was more
to him than you knew, or perhaps less. I don’t know. He was trying
to create a marshmallow life with you, perhaps because he believed
it would change him, but it didn’t.’

No-one had been brave enough to
say this to Jay before, but sitting across the table from Jez, she
realised that other people must have thought it. Some of them must
have resented her, too. What had she got that they hadn’t? How come
she could tame the beast?

Jez leaned forward again over
the table. ‘I don’t know whether you know about this, but Jez
called Anton from Surf Sharks a few days before he
disappeared.’

‘So? Anton was going to produce
a couple of the songs on the album.’

‘Dex told him not to bother. He
said the album wouldn’t get made and that he might be retiring. He
said any payment for the songs would be blood money. Anton made
some enquiries and Sakrilege just said that was Dex being Dex, and
not to worry about it. Money was involved. Anton was asked to keep
it to himself, and he did.’

‘But he told you.’

‘Only a few weeks ago, and I
suspect just because he was stoned.’

‘He’ll probably tell others,
then.’

‘I don’t think so. To be honest,
he seemed kind of superstitious about it, even nervous.’

Jay laughed. ‘Oh, come on, Jez.
This is beginning to sound disturbingly conspiratorial!’

‘All I’m saying is that Dex did
drop hints to other people about the disappearing act. I’ve no
doubt you could unearth others. If you want the true story, Jay,
use your skills to find it.’

‘Oh Jesus, I’ve woken up in a TV
series! The police tried to find the true story, and so did the
record company. If there is one, Dex hid it too well. I can’t waste
time looking for it. As you pointed out, I need to let go, not
become more obsessed.’

‘Perhaps part of letting go is
knowing the truth. Anyway...’ He leaned back in his chair, ‘I’m
curious myself.’

‘This meal wasn’t just about
smoothing my ruffled feathers, was it?’

‘Mainly. I hadn’t decided
whether I’d speak to you about this or not. I was waiting to test
the water.’

Jay reached out and squeezed one
of Jez’s hands. ‘I do appreciate your concern, but, well, I can’t
go clawing up the past. I don’t think it would be good for me.’

‘You know best,’ Jez said.

It was past three when Jay got
home, and even though Gus had an early start in the morning, he was
still awake as she crept into the bed-room. She was glad it was
dark, because she had to smile when he demanded, ‘What time do you
call this?’ The Dex episode earlier must have got to Gus more than
she’d guessed.

‘Three-fifteen, Gus. Put the
light on and you’ll be able to see the clock.’

‘Where’ve you been? The gig
finished at eleven. Four hours for an interview? You said you
wouldn’t be late.’

‘Jez and I went for a meal
afterwards to catch up on gossip. Then we went back to his hotel
for coffee.’

‘I bet.’

‘Gus! You’re not being jealous,
are you?’

An indecipherable sound came
from beneath the duvet. Jay sat down on the bed and pulled off her
boots. This was all she needed. Sighing pointedly, she stomped into
the living room. She knew shouldn’t have another drink - what was
the point? She was going to bed in a few minutes - but couldn’t
resist pouring herself a vodka. She justified it by telling herself
it was because Gus had rattled her. The TV was still on, hissing
static. Was that another gesture by Gus? She reached to turn on a
table lamp, then froze. Dex’s face stared up at her from the front
of a magazine that lay on the sofa. She recognised it. It was the
big interview she’d done with him for ‘This’, shortly after they’d
met. A friend of hers had taken the accompanying photos. The
magazine had been stored in her sealed box in the wardrobe.
‘Bastard!’ she muttered, picking the magazine up.

In the bedroom, she turned on
the main light and threw the magazine on the bed. ‘You’ve been
looking through my things! You’ve no right to look through my
things!’ Ice chinked in her glass.

Gus appeared bleary-eyed from
the beneath the duvet. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

‘That!’ She pointed with her
free hand at the magazine, which lay like a broken bird over Gus’
legs.

Gus stared at it. ‘What are you
on about?’

Jay knew, even as she continued
to rant and accuse, that Gus’ perplexity was genuine. He was
essentially a simple creature and not proficient at deception. He
stared at the magazine with disgust, too phobic to flick it
away.

Once her initial tirade had
exhausted itself, Jay sat down on the bed, gulping vodka. There was
a strained silence. Finally she said, ‘You really didn’t put it
there?’

‘No.’

‘Then how did it get there?’

‘I don’t know. You must have...
I don’t know... had it mixed up with some papers or something. Why
does it bother you so much anyway?’ A prim, pompous tone had crept
into his voice.

Jay shook her head. ‘Oh, just
because of the way you were earlier. I know what you think of Dex,
and how you hate the fact we lived together here once. I thought
you were trying to get at me.’

Gus laughed coldly. ‘I don’t
want to see that slime-ball’s face. I don’t want to rake through
his ashes in your cupboard. Nothing would induce me to remind you
of him.’

‘I know.’ Jay reached for his
foot beneath the duvet, squeezed it. ‘I’m sorry. It just freaked me
out.’

She got up and pulled a chair
away from the dressing table so that she could reach the top shelf
of the wardrobe. She had to check, even though she knew what she
would find. The memory box was still sealed, the tape brittle
across its uneven surface.

Three days later, Jay met Gina
for a coffee in the West End. A shimmering Indian summer held the
city in warm hands; leaves dropped slowly from the trees in St.
Giles Circus, gradually revealing the old church that lay behind
them. Jay sat outside a bar, sipping Espresso, waiting for her
friend to arrive. The sun was strong enough to coax lunch-time
drinkers from their coats and the fresh, ripe air fermented in
Jay’s nostrils. Despite the anxiety in her mind, she felt fairly at
ease. It was impossible not to be affected by the generosity of the
day.

Gina came swinging up on to the
patio, her red hair freshly hennaed, dark glasses opaque above her
crimson smile. She wore the tattiest jumper, jeans and leather
jacket imaginable, yet still managed to look well-groomed. She sat
down opposite Jay in a cloud of Issey Miyake perfume, clearly in
the most exuberant of spirits.

‘Considering the curse that has
just been pronounced upon me by the cash point, I feel remarkably
alive today,’ she said, grinning.

‘You have a capacity to make me
feel dull,’ Jay said, pouring Gina a cup of coffee from the
cafetiere on the table. ‘Kindly stop glowing.’

Gina sighed. ‘I feel good. I can
hardly wait to tell you, and it nearly killed me not mentioning it
on the phone, but - guess what - I’ve sold ‘Visa Vixen’.’

‘That’s great news!’ Jay said.
Gina had been trying to sell her novel for years.

‘I know. Pull out the stops.
Order extra cream for the coffee!’

‘How’d it happen? Did you manage
to get an agent after all?’

Gina shook her head, looked a
little sly. ‘No, I used the influence of friends. Three Swords
friends, as it happens.’

Jay raised an eyebrow. ‘Sell
your soul to the devil, my dear!’

Gina wrinkled her nose. ‘Hardly.
It’s only a
small
publisher, but what the hell. It’s a
start.’ Gina had been working on her novel ever since Jay had met
her. Although Jay felt it had the potential to be a cult success,
she’d privately doubted its rather aggressive approach could ever
ensure wide sales. Gina described it as a cross between Hollywood
Wives and An American Psycho. Shopping, fucking and gutting and
outrageously politically incorrect. Jay wasn’t squeamish but some
of the chapters had still made her wince. Perhaps it would be a
best-seller after all.

Gina sprinkled a little packet
of sugar into her coffee. ‘So, what’s happening with you? I had a
sense of some kind of ‘happening’ in your voice last night.’

Jay wriggled her shoulders
uncomfortably. What she had to say didn’t match Gina’s mood. ‘Oh,
it’s nothing really. Paranoia, I expect.’

Gina took off her dark glasses,
eyes like lasers. ‘What?’

Jay’s eyes swerved away. ‘Did
you see the documentary about Dex on TV the other night?’

Gina looked slightly
embarrassed. ‘Yes. Dan and I watched it. It was bollocks, of
course.’ She reached out a hand to touch Jay’s fingers, which were
unaccountably icy. ‘Oh, it’s upset you, hasn’t it. I
understand...’

Jay raised her hands and Gina’s
fingers curled away from her. ‘Not exactly. Well, yes. No. Oh God,
this is going to sound mad, and I want you to be clear that I’m not
mad, but there’ve been some odd... coincidences since Sunday
night.’

It had begun with the magazine.
The outburst with Gus had been a mistake, because it had given him
evidence that Jay was still screwed up about Dex. Still, she
couldn’t take that back now. The next day had simmered with a
low-burn brew of hostile hurt. Gus didn’t want to feel bad, but he
did, and made a heroic effort to hide his feelings. Jay felt
scalded, and the pair of them had bounced off one another like
opposing magnets. Never had the flat felt so small. Never had
polite conversation felt so crude.

Later that day, the phone had
rung three times in succession, only for Jay to hear nothing but
febrile static on the line. She’d had calls like this before -
weird misdialings, glitches in the system - but perhaps because of
her mood she invested them with a certain significance. Almost
ashamed of herself, she couldn’t help thinking of phantom calls
from the afterlife, a breath of a name whispered down the line. In
fact, she heard nothing like that, but there was a sense of
distance, of more than just space. Jay was no more superstitious
than the average woman. She read her stars in the paper and partly
believed in them when they presaged good news. She touched wood on
occasion, and had a crawly-spine dislike of the dark in old houses,
which she supposed derived from occasions in her childhood, when
she’d been parked at the abodes of elderly relatives by her
parents, so that they were free to enjoy themselves at weekends.
Both sets of grandparents had owned creaking, watchful dwellings,
where grandmothers had writhed in their beds of birth, and their
own mothers had decayed into gibbering strangeness and died. As a
child, Jay had been very conscious of the great grandmothers who
had died. She’d had bad dreams about their bedrooms, long after the
occupants had left them. Another demented great-aunt had minded her
on occasion, and had delighted in regaling her quivering
great-niece with tales of the Unaccountable Sounds that had plagued
her own childhood, specifically how she had heard a man slowly
climb the stairs outside her bedroom door every night. For some
reason, she associated this with a beheaded king. Nights spent in
this house had been a horror for Jay. Her ears had strained for the
slightest hint of a Sound. It had been difficult to sleep.

Now, a whiff of those feelings
came back to her. She had never felt uncomfortable alone in the
flat before, not even just after Dex had disappeared, but now she
felt jumpy. When Gus went out at night, all the furniture flashed
into sharper focus, and had a waiting look about it. There were no
cold spots, and certainly no Sounds, but twice during the evening
following the phone calls, Jay thought she caught the flicker of a
shadow in the corner of her eye. She changed any 40 watt bulbs for
60 watt and kept all the lamps turned on.